


Never Quite As Planned

by Rori_Teagan



Series: Careful [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Consensual Infidelity, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rori_Teagan/pseuds/Rori_Teagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Hogwarts, sequel to Careful What You Ask For. No one ever said loving someone was easy. It's even harder when you come from two different worlds...and you don't even know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Quite As Planned

**Author's Note:**

> I now have work available on Amazon. Inexpensive, fun, sexy. Copy/Paste url to view: 
> 
> http://www.amazon.com/author/simone 
> 
> or search under Simone Millien. Also, I'm now taking requests.

Draco pressed his forehead into the pillows and braced back against Harry. One hand clasped Harry’s fingers between Draco’s own, their palms slipping and sliding in a rough drag against each other. The other hand was buried in the coverlet by his head that they’d been in too much of a rush to turn back. Their naked thighs rubbed together, burn eased by the film of sweat they’d worked up mingled with escaped lube and Draco’s own fluids. Harry’s cock was nudging against the very center of him on every thrust sending starbursts of sensation shivering through his body. His cock dragged through the air unattended, a throbbing solid length of need, his bollocks drawn high full and tight to his body. It wasn’t going to be much longer; from the way Harry’s grunts were getting sharper and his thrusts more ragged he  was about to blow too. Draco simultaneously couldn’t wait to the end and didn’t want to ever come if it meant he’d get to stay here like this, his lover entangled within him in every humanly way possible.  
  
Every time it got better, and every time it was amazing. And every time Harry wondered if it was going to be their last and slid every ounce of want and lust and joy and desperation into every touch, kiss, caress, thrust. The selfish part of him that was just so overjoyed someone was rubbing him the right way, in all the right ways, finally – loved him enough to be scared of losing him… was okay with letting Harry linger in his own insecurities. The rest of him was still working on a way of making the other man accept what they had was real.  
It probably would have helped if Astoria wasn’t still arranging all their meetings.  
  
Come to think of it, it probably would have been helpful in a lot of ways. Harry had missed a full week and a half of work before they’d caught on to the pattern of her arrangements. Now they only met on weekends or evenings, it wasn’t enough, but the way Draco felt every moment of every day for the rest of their lives might not be enough. Perhaps if all combined brain power wasn’t regularly being expelled out of their cocks it wouldn’t have taken that long. However, if it was Astoria’s intention to get Harry fired so that he was forced into financial dependency thus reinforcing her dominance in his life she had been doing a pretty bang up job at it. They really needed to shut down her power trip before she got too unmanageable and did something irrevocable. Not to mention that smug self-satisfied air she had around her lately was really annoying.  
  
Well. If Draco could pause feeling so little boy on his first broom-ride happy with life.  
  
Harry lurched forward suddenly with the force of his orgasm and Draco’s internal babbling shut off with the instantaneousness of a tap being cut. Harry’s pumping cock was pressed against his prostate and riding it there with every pulsation.  
Draco opened his mouth and let forth a wail. There was no other word for it. There was no other word for his orgasm except, involuntary, electric, and there. Right now.  
  
Draco came until there was nothing left to give, and Harry pressed on with him holding him through. And stayed there. Until, oversensitive, that too became too much and Draco wriggled hard, sliding Harry’s full weight off of him.  Harry’s softening cock slipped out as well, leaving a mess of fluids behind.  
  
Well. No one ever said sex was neat.  
  
They lay there panting, hands still clasped together. Draco had never felt so sore, or so content in his life. The only time that rivaled this was the last time they’d fucked. Twenty-minutes, legs wrapped around Harry’s solid middle, chests pressed together, heads buried against each other’s throats so that all they breathed in was each other, Harry wedged so deep inside him they were one person, hips rocking and grinding languidly building their orgasm between them like building a fire, soft spark igniting bigger and bigger until molten lava poured.  
  
“Mmm,” Draco hummed. “I think my _teeth_ felt that one.”  
  
Harry chuckled and shifted enough to gather Draco to him. Part of him still expected to be disgusted with all the excess fluid making everything so…wet. He’d always been before, but with Harry it just made things hotter during, and after the need to be close won out over clean. It was so odd for him, it went against everything he’d ever thought he liked or wanted. Everything with Harry over the last five months had gone against everything he’d ever thought he’d known about relationships. Not that he’d been overly experienced before Harry. In fact, Astoria was his only other regular bed partner, though not so much anymore, and the only other person he’d shared a post-coital haze with where everything was soft and  blurred around the edges with pleasure still warming your body.  
  
Harry’s free hand snaked into Draco’s sweat slicked hair and his nose began snuffling against the back of Draco’s neck. They’d been shagging long enough for Draco to recognize the signs of Harry falling asleep. Normally he’d let him, then he'd wake him slow and sweet with his mouth around his cock. Or throat. Or tongue in his mouth. There were so many places he loved rediscovering.  
Draco stretched. Harry adjusted to allow him without needing to let go and then he was back gathering Draco closer once again. Being this loved was addictive.  
  
“As much as I’d love to,” Draco said with reluctance, “I have an appointment in an hour. Marital obligations trump an extra hour of sleep, or so I’ve been told.”  
  
“What?” The arms around Draco’s body withdrew, but not as if they were honoring Draco’s request. No, instead it was as if Harry couldn’t stand to be touching him anymore. Draco sat up when Harry did a moment later and turned to look at him confused. The difference from a moment ago could be felt on the air.  
  
They tried not to bring Astoria into bed with them, figuratively speaking, literally had never come up and wouldn’t if Draco had anything to say about it. But she wasn’t a topic off limits. She was still Draco’s wife, she was still Harry’s friend which he would meet weekly for lunch, _still_. So what was this?  
  
“Astoria’s made an appointment for us to see a mediwizard, discuss conceiving an heir. I think we still have a few years before even discussing it, but she’s adamant that she’d like to be done birthing before her twenties, like her mother before her. Seems a bit medieval to me but you know the wizarding world if it smacks of modernity it’s gauche.” Draco had a tendency to want to ramble on when he was nervous, a particular habit he could usually stop but hadn’t tried to curb in front of Harry in…five months and six days. He was out of practice.   
  
“You’re trying to have a baby?” The words were innocuous but the tone was sharp. Draco flinched.  
  
“What? No. We’re only going to discuss what we’ll need to do to prepare our bodies for the possibility. Future possibility, far future possibility. She’s only seventeen, we won’t get rid of the contraceptives for another year at least if she has her way. If I have mine seven to ten.”  
  
“Then why are you – I don’t understand.”  
  
Some of the rigidity went out of his body and Draco smiled in relief. He always forgot Harry had been raised a Muggle. Okay, maybe that’s what this was about. Simple miscommunication, Harry must have thought he was about to become an adjoinant parent right now. Of course not, of course they weren’t ready for that, he wouldn’t have just sprung it on him without discussing it first.  
  
“Because it’s typically harder to conceive for members of Magical families as old as Astoria and mine. You’ve never heard the adage ‘the purer the blood the softer the step’? It refers to the silence in many pureblood households from fewer children running around. The Weasleys are actually a bit of an anomaly. Most purebloods make do with one child and then fill up on nieces or nephews or an heir apparent if it comes to that.”  
  
“But…you are going to try for a child,” Harry interrupted.  
  
“Eventually, yes, of course. I thought you loved children.”  
  
Harry shook his head. With the way his fringe obscured his eyes Draco couldn’t tell if that was a ‘No. Can’t stand the little buggers.’ Or ‘Wait just a moment, that’s not the point at all.’ Either option left a heavy lump in his stomach. This was more than just miscommunication, this was a problem.  
  
But that was okay, no reason to panic. All couples had problems at some point or another. It was foolish of him to expect them to keep going on in this mindless state of bliss with nary an argument. They’d argued more as children then they’d had as a couple, how likely was that to continue forever? Granted, he felt a bit blindsided by the turn things were taking but that didn’t mean his heart had to keep reaching up and strangling his throat like that, this wasn’t anything but a typical argument like all couples had eventually. They’d fight and then they’d make up and then they’d fuck which would probably kill him because their normal fucking was stratospherically good and enough to short his brain out so make up sex was bound to --  
  
“With Astoria.” Harry pronounced roughly, with more resignation than question.  
  
“Well, yes, she is my wife.”   
  
“You still shag her?”  
  
Draco could feel the panic well up in him because whatever he told himself Harry’s face was not saying ‘this is okay. This is to be expected.’ “Well, I haven’t done.”  
  
“But you would if she asked,” Harry grated. And Draco read on the downward turn of his mouth ‘This is going to break us.’ “You will?”  
  
“She’s my wife,” Draco repeated. He wasn’t sure where all this was coming from but he felt like he was answering wrong whatever he said. He wanted to stop talking. He wanted to rewind. Crossed arms and hunched shoulders said it was far too late for that.  
  
“That’s neither a yes or a no.”  
  
“I love you Harry, I’ve said. Nothing’s changed.”  
  
“And I, You. But love alone isn’t enough, is it.”  
  
“I don’t… Yes it’s enough. It’s enough for me. I don’t know what you want me to say. Astoria is still my wife, the eventual mother to my heir, I can’t just ignore that, but it doesn’t change anything between us.”  
  
“No? Then what is this? What are we doing here?”  
  
Draco looked at him long and hard. There was too much finality in the question. Too much ultimatum.  Too much…‘it doesn’t matter what you answer, we’re already through.’ It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t so much of a fool that he believed life owed him justice and balance, his life had stopped being fair when he was born a Malfoy. But this… He hadn’t expected this. Right from the beginning they’d been honest with the other, they knew what they had, they knew what they wanted, and Harry had told him, ‘No regrets. ’ and ‘As long as you let me.’  
  
Fucking lying bastard.  
  
“Just a favor, right?” He asked bitterly.   
  
Wordless Harry stood and retrieved his clothing, he quietly and efficiently put them back on, a moment later he was gone. He hadn’t needed to wear those same dirty clothes; Draco had been keeping a spare set of his things in the closet for a month now. 

  
When Draco finally emerged from his bedroom --the same one he’d made love to Harry in for the first time. The same one he’d slept side by side with his wife every night – he found Astoria waiting for him, smug.  
  
“You were loud today. No one can say Harry doesn’t apply himself,” Astoria commented dryly.    
  
Draco didn’t think he was a particularly violent person, he’d had his moments as a child, but the worst he ever got was Harry and the Bubotuber pus. And once he’d contemplated stomping on his face. But he was a fourteen year old boy nursing a broken heart then, funny how this felt exactly the same. He tucked his wand away and left before he could curse her out of existence. Fuck their appointment.  



End file.
